This Is Kewl. hi there. I'm writing for the first time OnLine. I'm not what you would call a "computer person". My name is StEe! Stee is a name from a long time ago. Where did I get that name, you might ask? It's a secret. (But you can electronic-mail me and Ask nicely ;-) at 670398812901187@compuserve.com)
I live in New YOrk City in case you were wondering and I go to school at New York University. I'm a real City Boy now ;-)... I take the subway and have even stopped turning around every time a car horn honks thinking it's someone who knows me. You know why? Because everyone in New York constantly honks their horns. It's crazy, man.
If I talk disjointedly right now it's because I've discovered the best writer all AlL Tyme! it's Jack Kerouac. Man, he's one gone beat daddy. He reminds me of me. He's searching, you know. He's a crazy beat guy looking for the right gone little girl to love him and stroke his wild hair and they can drink wine out of a jug all night and make love (or Fuck, as he said) and he can dig her gone little cunt (i like that word now!) and they can just rock the bad thoughts of this consumer world away in a little railroad flat down on the Lower East Side (I'm not sure exactly where that is yet, but I plan to take a walk down there any time now!)
The other night we opened our production of The Crucible. NYU directors are wild, man! They're opening me up to all sorts of new dramatic forms, like Grotowski (sp?) and Beckett and Stanislawski (sp?) who was the Father of Modern Psychological Drama which the "group" theatre stole from and then killed him, I think. Anyway, our Crucible, it's directed by Funch, who only has one name and she is this gone chick from Omaha I think and she's a real lesbian and is pretty but I would never tell her that. Anyway, our Crucible is not about the witch trials or even about McCarthyism. No, it's about the male tyranny over women and the restricting of their sexuality, which I TOTALLY think is a great take on the play. We are all naked the WHOLE TIME and the men wear their cocks tucked under so you can't see them so good. It's pretty painful and i can't walk much but it all makes sense in the last act (I play Danforth!) where Mary pours strawberry jam all over her breasts and makes Elizabeth Proctor lick it off as John is having his "But It Is My Name!" speech. I feel actually kinda bad that I get turned on by that scene because it's so NOT about that, and so I usually have to look away and think very hard about the male repression of female sexuality and how BAD men are in order to calm myself down but it doesn't always work. Oh well... it's a small price to pay for ART. I heard the Village Voice might review us!!!
But a funny thing happened at the opening night cast party: Funch came on to me. I don't really understand it because at the time I had been doing shots of this plum liquor from Bulgaria that tastes sort of like kerosene all night, but I made my way to the bathroom and Funch followed me in there and kissed me. Wild!!! I think maybe she said something about how now I'll finally get it through my male head that she doesn't think about men like that, but I was too busy trying to undo her bra (Damn those triple-clasps!) and not throw up from all the Bulgarian Liquor. Not much happened, but it's probably for the best because we have to work together and this is soooo about the art, not about the fucking, although as I was thinking this all, once she left and once I'd puked a few times and was lying in the bathtub, I realized that Art and Sex have always gone hand in hand and it's not doing a disservice to the art to also do the sex...
So I went home with the Sound Girl and fucked her.
And afterwards, we talked all about the role of lighting in illuminating the truth of a show and I got so turned on by this merging of artistic minds that we fucked again, but then talked more and I realized that I had been totally right! That art and sex can go hand in hand.
Man, I love college!
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